A Family for Harry
by WeasleyGirl-ca
Summary: Having lost his parents and now his godfather, Harry feels more alone than ever. As the sun rises on his 16th birthday, his best mate presents him with a gift, reminding him that he isn’t alone and never will be. Oneshot: friendship & family.


This is my first attempt at a one-shot. Any feedback would be great!

**A Family for Harry**

Harry couldn't sleep, not that that was anything new. He lay on the bed Mrs. Weasley had set up for him in Ron's room, staring at the glaringly orange posters plastered across the ceiling. One of the players—a chaser—held up a quaffle and waved to Harry happily.

Not returning the smile, Harry turned onto his side, bringing Ron into his line of vision. Though it didn't seem possible, Ron had grown another two inches over the past year. His bare feet dangled over the edge of the bed.

Harry could see a pained expression on his best mate's slumbering face. He glanced down at the still present scars running across Ron's arms and groaned—another reminder of that night.

Turning yet again, this time onto his stomach, he buried his face into the pillow, muffling the sob that unwillingly gathered in his throat. It hurt so much to think about that night—the night he led his friends into unnecessary danger, the night he faced Voldemort for the forth time, the night he learned of his fate…the night he lost Sirius.

He never felt so alone in his life. He felt even more alone than he had as a child, when he had wished every night for just one person to love him—it had been all he asked for. And now, that person, that one person that his parents had personally picked to be his family was gone.

Under any other circumstances, he would have turned to Sirius after learning about the prophecy but now…he had no one to turn to, no one he thought could understand him like Sirius did.

He felt angry tears welling behind his eyes. He suppressed them from escaping as he sat up in bed. Swinging his legs over the edge, he got out of bed. Maybe a glass of water would do him some good.

As he walked towards the door, Harry noticed that Ron's desk drawer was slightly ajar. He moved his hand to shut it when he noticed his name staring back at him. Without out thinking, he opened the drawer. The drawer was covered in parchments. He picked one up—it was a letter from Hermione, as was the next and the next and the next. They were all from Hermione.

Before he had arrived at the Burrow last night, Ron and Hermione had sent him letters, though he never replied to them—he just didn't have the energy or the will. But judging by Ron's drawer, his two best friends had been writing to each other almost daily. He felt a slight tinge of jealousy. What could they have to write about in so many letters? He knew it was an invasion of privacy but he still found himself scanning over the letters, all written in Hermione's neat writing.

_He hasn't written back to me either. I'm really worried. What are we going to do?_

_Sometimes I feel so helpless, so useless. Harry's suffering and it seems like there's nothing we can do._

_I know Ron, I'm worried sick, too. How are we going to help him? He never lets me in. It's just so unfair! Why does this keep happening to him?_

_I thought he would have opened up to you. I guess not. He's shut us out of his life. I know it hurts Ron but it's his defence mechanism. We just have to keep showing him how much we love him._

Harry stopped reading. Every letter was about him. And it was implicit in Hermione's letters that Ron's letters to her were also about him.

He didn't know whether to feel angry, guilty or touched. The anger was already winning the battle, as it always had in recent months. How could they discuss him to such an extent behind his back?

He slammed the drawer shut, forgetting that Ron was still sleeping. Ron got up with a jerk.

"Harry! Are you ok?" Ron asked in a panicked voice. Harry wondered if Ron's outcry was in response to the drawer slamming or Ron's dream.

"Fine," he said angrily. He glanced out the window. The sun was just starting to brighten the night sky. He looked at Ron's calendar—it was his birthday.

Ron rubbed the back of his head, slightly dazed. "What were you doing?"

Harry stayed silent.

"Were you looking through my drawer?"

"So what if I was?"

Ron looked at him sadly, no trace of anger in his eyes, only that of regret. "Oh." Harry could hear the disappointment in his voice. Harry didn't know whether he should care.

"Why would you do that?" he asked.

"I saw my name on a letter."

Ron nodded. Harry wondered why Ron wasn't mad. He had invaded his privacy after all.

"What gives you two the right to talk about me behind my back?"

"Harry, we weren't."

"Oh, really, then what's all this?" he yelled, pulling the drawer open and flinging a few letters at Ron. "If you have something to say, say it to my face."

"We're just worried about you," he mumbled, looking down.

"Well, stop it. I don't need you to worry about me!"

Now Harry could see the anger creeping into Ron's eyes. "You know, Harry, last time I checked, friends are allowed to worry about friends."

Harry shook his head and continued to pull out the letters, throwing them into the room. His hands started to shake.

"You don't know anything, Ron."

Ron looked hurt. He turned his head away from Harry. "Because you won't let me in," he whispered.

"And why would I do that?"

"You used too. I used to be your best mate but now…I feel like…" Ron stopped, trying to recollect himself. Harry could hear the undertone of sobs in Ron's voice.

"Feel like what?" Harry prompted, daring him to speak.

"Doesn't matter."

"You started it."

"It's not important."

"Feel like WHAT?" yelled Harry. The tears were now creeping past Harry's eyes.

"Like a stranger. We used to be so close. You told me everything or at least I thought you did. But now…I'm _nothing_ to you. I should have known it wouldn't last." Ron screwed his face, obviously pushing back tears.

Harry closed his eyes, realizing that he had been thinking like there was no one left in his life now that Sirius was gone. Deep down, he knew that wasn't true. Though at his rate, he would end up with no one.

Guilt started tugging at him. He hadn't paid attention to Ron. He hadn't realized that Ron felt like he was nothingto him—how could he think that? Did he really give off that impression?

"Doesn't matter. It's not important," said Ron.

Harry bowed his head, one hand still resting in the drawer. There were so many people who cared about him—Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Ginny, Ron's brothers, Hermione, Ron—and he was pushing them away.

His hand brushed against something. Harry looked down at the open drawer, surprised that there was still something in there. Wrapped in brown packaging paper was a long narrow box with his name printed on the wrapping in Ron's neatest writing.

"What's this?" asked Harry, holding it up to Ron.

"N-nothing," stammered Ron, trying to take it from Harry.

Harry moved his hand away. "It has my name on it."

"It's—it's your birthday gift. But you won't…you wouldn't want it," he said, grabbing it out of his hand.

Harry looked at the gift in bewilderment. "Ron…"

Ron looked down at the package sadly. "I wanted you to have this…it's not much, I mean, I can't really affor—."

"Ron, stop that."

Harry decided that he had to make an effort to repair his broken relationships and he was going to start right here with the most important one.

"I thought…I mean, it would mean a lot to me if you accepted it…but…I was stupid…I'm always stupid—things are different now…I understand that now. You'll always be family to me but I understand if you don't feel the same…"

"Stop it, Ron!" exclaimed Harry. "I'm s-sorry. I know I've being pushing you away but that doesn't mean…I still lo…you're still my best mate."

Ron stared at the package. His hands shook. "It's not much…"

Sometimes Harry wanted to knock some sense into Ron. When did he ever care about how much money Ron spent on him?

"But it means a lot to me," Ron continued, quietly.

Slowly, he handed the box to Harry. He smiled weakly, nervously. "Happy Birthday, Harry."

Harry carefully unwrapped the package as Ron kept his head bowed down, his hands fidgeting with one of Hermione's letters.

The brown paper revealed a plain black box. He lifted the lid and gasped. Ron's head snapped up and looked at Harry, holding his breath as if preparing himself for harsh words.

Lying in the box was a long, shiny slender bronze arrow, the letters "Harry" engraved on the tail in elegant print.

Aside from the engraved letters, the arrow was identical to nine other arrows he had been accustom to seeing in the Burrow living room—as the hands of the grandfather clock that represented every member of the Weasley family and where they were.

"Ron…" whispered Harry in utter astonishment.

"I understand if you don't want it…" Ron said in a choked voice.

"No…" Tears were running freely down his face now. "What does this mean?"

"I had the letters engraved into the arrow. Mum charmed it. It was meant for our family clock. I wanted…I wanted you to know…know that you're family, always have been…always will be…even…even if you don't want to be…" His voice trailed off.

Harry didn't know what to say. He had never been given something so invaluable before. He ran his fingers along his name. He always knew that Ron was like a brother, that the Weasleys cared about him but this was so…so palpable. The gift was family and he could not think of anything greater, anything he wanted more.

"I don't know what to say."

Ron nodded. "I'm sorry…it was stupid of me to think that you would like it…I mean, what was I thinking..."

"No, no, Ron. It's the most precious gift I've ever gotten."

Ron shook his head. "Of course it isn't…it didn't cost—."

"No sum of money could amount to this, Ron. I've always wanted a family…"

"And you've always had one ever since the summer of first year."

Harry nodded and hugged Ron. It was the first time he had ever done that. Ron had always been uncomfortable with hugs. Ron tensed momentarily in surprise before hugging him back.

They pulled apart and laughed, covering up the awkward moment.

"Happy Birthday, Harry."

"It's the best gift ever, Ron."

Come on, might as well go downstairs. Mum's probably already cooking up a storm…be warned, you're going to be stuffed senseless today."

Harry smiled, genuinely for the first time since that night. He closed his eyes momentarily. He could see Sirius smiling down at him. "Family is where the heart is, Harry," whispered Harry's godfather.

* * *

Well, what do you think? I'd love feedback:) Weasleygirl-ca 


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